From ten thousand valleys the trees touch heaven；

　　On a thousand peaks cuckoos are calling；

　　And， after a night of mountain rain，

　　From each summit come hundreds of silken cascades¹.

　　……If girls are asked in tribute the fibre they weave，

　　Or farmers quarrel over taro² fields，

　　Preside as wisely as Wenweng did……

　　Is fame to be only for the ancients？